


The Long Con: Wes

by KitFistoVevo (KevinPriceSuperstar)



Series: The Long Con [2]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Depictions of sexual violence, Forced Prostitution, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 17:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14141160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KevinPriceSuperstar/pseuds/KitFistoVevo
Summary: The Long Con is an extended story that details the events that occur before, during, and after the game. This is Wes' story.





	The Long Con: Wes

**Author's Note:**

> This contains a lot of my own headcanons, and a couple of OCs that just act as NPCs to drive the story.  
> There's no OC/Canon shipping in this here fic. Also I'm still getting back into writing so I'm not quite where I was a few years back- bone atrophy.

**Wes: A Bad Beginning**

 

The large cargo train rattled the roof of Wes’ tiny Paris apartment- if you could call it that- knocking even more flecks of the ceiling onto the floor. He had lived in this rat-infested shithole for years now, with only his scraggly, one-eyed cat to keep him company (and control the rat population).

 

Taking the last swig of a cheap wine directly from the bottle to steel himself for the start of his work day. Work night, was perhaps more accurate. He barely heard the knock on his door over the train horn. He took one last glance in the mirror, exhausted chocolate eyes staring back at him, before going to open the door.

 

“Bon soir, monsieur.” Wes greeted weakly, averting his gaze. The older man said nothing as he pushed his way into the room. The boy shut the door behind him, praying that his client wouldn’t hear his troubled sigh. The older man shed his coat, tossing it on Wes’ small vanity.

 

“Si tu cries, j’t’coupe la gorge.” he finally grunted. The threat was nothing new to Wes- it’s the same thing he said every time he came over. With a nod, Wes shed his robe and positioned himself for the horrible act he was about to commit.

 

Two Francs hit the floor after the factory manager was done having his way with the poor boy, and he left just as quickly as he’d arrived.

 

 

Wes never imagined his life would come to this. He had screamed only once, and his client made good on his promise to slit his throat. It was fortunate for Wes that he was not home this time- his body was dumped unceremoniously in an alley, blood gushing from the jagged wound on his neck. He somehow remained conscious until a passerby found him only minutes later.

 

“Uh! It will all be okay, just hang in there!” he thought he may have been dreaming- an angel had come to his rescue, perfect blonde curls and all. Two angels? Was this double vision? How were there two of this woman, both doing different things? The world went black.

 

He awoke someplace that was unfamiliar to him. Someone was holding onto his hand, weeping softly. His vision blurred, but he could not be mistaken- it was the angel. She noticed him stirring and perked up.

 

“You’re awake! Oh thank the good Lord-- May! May! He’s awake! He’s alive! You did it!” He couldn’t understand half of her words, but she seemed… excited. The other angel flew into the room, hand over her heart. She looked simultaneously thrilled and exhausted.

 

“Good Lord in Heaven!” May exclaimed. “Daisy, get the poor boy some water!” she ordered her twin sister, rushing to Wes’ side. Angel #1 (Daisy?) sprung up and fluttered about, scrambling to attend to the boy.

 

“Okay. Don’t try to speak or move- your throat was cut real bad.” May spoke slowly, with a drawl that he recognized as… American? Idiot American? But if she had saved his life, she surely could not be stupid.

 

Daisy rushed back with the water, pressing the small tin cup to his lips.

 

“Drink real slowlike, okay?” she cooed softly, tilting the cup back slightly. Wes struggled to keep up with the slow stream of fluid. Swallowing made him feel like his throat was going to explode.

 

“Your vocal cords was cut, and I did my best to sew ya back up. We ain’t from around here, so we didn’t know where the hospital was,” May admitted.

 

“Lucky for you, we don’t stay too far from where we found ya.” Daisy added, pulling the cup away.

 

Wes understood some of these words, just not in this order. He opened his mouth to speak, and not a single squeak escaped.

 

“Had Daisy not’ve seen ya down there, well..” May looked away, afraid to say it. “But, you’re alive now. Blink twice if you know your name.”

 

Wes stared at her blankly. May sighed.

 

“Daisy, get Wolfgang- he can translate for us.”

 

Soon, the room had a new body- albeit a scrawny body. Wolfgang translated for the twins, letting them know that his name was Wes, he knew the man who stabbed him, he had no real prospects and no family to return to. The girls seemed to weep for him.

“Ask him if he’d like to join our circus!” Daisy chirped.

 

“We can train him, and he’d finally have a place in this world!” May added.

 

\-----

 

**Le Petit Journal**

Jeudi 7 Janvier 1904

 

Le Cirque de la Lune a ajouté un nouveau membre. Venez voir le mime nommé Wes ce vendredi soir au Cirque Napoléon…

\---

 

Wes had never seen his name in the paper before! He’d been training so hard to be show worthy after finally recovering, and he was now allowed to be proud of himself. Daisy and May had worked with him between practice for their acrobatic acts, teaching him not only the circus life, but also how to communicate using hand gestures. He cut the small article stub out and pressed it into a small notebook for safekeeping. For once, he felt like he had a family, and like he belonged. Now to have some fame? Unreal.

 

His first performance...absolutely sucked. He froze up, dropped character and nearly started crying. He was followed up by the world’s puniest strongman and his sickly elephant, a halfway decent acrobatics team- the most impressive part about them was that they were identical- and a hungover juggler. At least Wes wasn’t the worst act.

 

Needless to say, Le Cirque de la Lune did not last long. However, fortune would favor the team, as they were bought out by an American circus company: Abernethy & Parker. One steamboat and three trains later, the crew found themselves performing in the middle of nowhere- ghost towns, mostly.

 

Their tour’s next stop had a major delay.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The end of this chapter ties in with The Long Con: Maxwell (Chapter 1)


End file.
